


Sweeter Than Pie

by bubbleguchi



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Bakery AU, First Meetings, Flirting via apple pie, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:00:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29418282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bubbleguchi/pseuds/bubbleguchi
Summary: Kenma has never liked loud. He has never liked over-the-top, or in-your-face, or center-of-attention. But helovesapple pie. Maybe that’s why he keeps coming back to Fukurodani Bakery, despite the assured presence there of a very loud, very over-the-top baker.-x-A Bakery AU
Relationships: Bokuto Koutarou/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 18
Kudos: 47
Collections: Among Friends Server Valentine's Day Fic Exchange





	Sweeter Than Pie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [risquetendencies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/risquetendencies/gifts).



> So this is for the beautiful Lina, because she deserves the fluffiest fluff on this most loving of days! Love you, boo xoxo
> 
> Big thanks to Andie and Kyrstin for betaing this for me, you absolute legends <3
> 
> Anyway, happy reading!!!

The bell above the door announces his arrival, the spiked head of the baker popping up from behind the counter to smile blindingly at him. Kenma hunches, bringing his shoulders up around his ears as he shuffles towards the counter. He’s hoping that the smile on the baker’s face isn’t an indication that he recognises Kenma, but seeing as he’s been in here every day this week he isn’t all that hopeful.

“Hey, hey, hey!” the baker greets him, always so loud, always so bright. Kenma tips his head forward, letting his hair fall over his eyes.

“Hi,” he responds quietly. He’s more than a little uncomfortable; he hasn’t lived in this town long, and the lack of familiarity still has him on edge. And the way those wide, golden eyes seem to see right through him doesn’t help, either.

“Apple pie, right?” the baker grins knowingly, and it feels like Kenma’s suspicions are confirmed. He simply nods, the baker’s smile somehow growing ever larger. “You know, I don’t think anyone likes my apple pie as much as you do.”

“It’s good,” Kenma replies, and he means it. He wouldn’t have come back so often if it wasn’t the best apple pie in the area. In fact, if the quality gap between this apple pie and second place weren’t so big, he might have even considered going there instead just to avoid this larger-than-life pastry chef.

The baker beams. “I get the feeling that means a lot coming from you. One slice of apple pie, coming up!”

He turns away to prepare the order, and Kenma lets out a relieved sigh. Every day he's had to build up the nerve to come in here and every time he finds speaking to this golden eyed, wild haired baker is never as difficult as he makes it out to be in his head. Only a little overwhelming at times due to his endless energy and excessive enthusiasm, but the large man never seems to push Kenma to speak too much so usually the interaction is over soon enough, after which Kenma can potter on home and enjoy his pie in peace.

At that moment the baker turns back around, apple pie on a plate and fork in hand, his usual grin plastered from ear to ear. Kenma’s face scrunches into a frown. Before he can speak, however, words begin to tumble from the baker’s mouth.

“I know you usually take your order to go, but I thought seeing as it’s a Sunday and this place is pretty empty you might want to sit and chat with me while you eat? That is, if you don’t have anywhere to be.”

He’s looking hopefully at Kenma, eyes surprisingly puppy-like for such a physically imposing man, but Kenma isn’t entirely swayed. Dealing with unwanted social interaction as a necessity is one thing, but agreeing to extend it? And with this rowdy giant? It sounds like a less than ideal situation.

He clears his throat softly. “I’d prefer to take it to go,” he says, only making eye contact for a second before looking back down at the counter between them. He waits, hoping for a quick response followed by the sound of his food being boxed, but it doesn’t come. But he waits a second longer, just in case. When still no movement is heard, he looks back up at the man.

That grand presence seems to have deflated, his whole body drooping and making him look unnervingly small. He heaves out a sigh, eyes fixed on the counter.

“Oh,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. It’s safe to say at this point that Kenma is more than a little bewildered. What the hell happened to that brilliant and confident man he’s grown used to?

“Um, are you okay?” Kenma asks tentatively, tilting his head a little to try to catch the baker’s eyes. This all seems weirdly backwards. Kuroo would probably laugh his ass off if he could see Kenma right now.

“Mhm,” the baker hums, nodding weakly. “I’ll just...find a box for this, I guess,” he murmurs, turning slowly.

And Kenma isn’t really sure what comes over him. He’s never liked seeing people sad, but then again, he doesn’t actually _see_ many people. It’s different with Kuroo – he understands Kuroo’s moods, and knows how to cheer him up. Watching this usually glowing man become so gloomy has Kenma wanting to cheer him up too.

“You don’t have to,” he says – a little louder than usual, but nothing near to the baker’s usual volume.

He stops moving, looking back over his shoulder at Kenma. “Really?”

Kenma nods. With a dramatic sniffle, the baker turns fully around again to face Kenma.

“You’ll stay?” he asks, voice small and hopeful. Kenma nods once more.

A slight smile curves the baker’s lips, golden eyes back to their usual intensity and settling on Kenma. “Go sit,” he says. “I’ll bring it over.”

He turns quickly and scuttles off to a separate room in the back somewhere, so Kenma obliges and finds a suitable table to sit at. The baker hadn’t been lying; the place is completely empty, a fact that confuses Kenma. This bakery has the best apple pie around, why is it so dead on a Sunday afternoon?

The table he settles on is in the corner, and he takes a seat with his back against the wall, pulling his phone out of his pocket with the intent to kill time on some mindless mobile game. He’s only waiting a few minutes before the baker bursts out from behind the counter, taking a second to look around. Once his eyes land on Kenma he’s beaming again, rushing over to the table carrying a plate that looks to contain a lot more than a simple slice of apple pie.

“Here,” the baker grins as he slides the plate in front of Kenma, looking extremely pleased with himself as he slips into the seat across from him.

Kenma looks down at the plate. Upon close inspection, he can see that the apple pie is still there. Only now it’s topped with a veritable mountain of ice cream and whipped cream, powdered with what looks like cinnamon. He stares at the pile of sugar for a second before looking back up at the eager face of the baker.

“What d’ya think? It’s on the house, of course.” He looks at Kenma expectantly, eyes practically gleaming along with the glare of his grin. It’s as if the dejected man from only minutes before had never existed. “Well, go on, try some!” he urges, holding out a fork.

Apprehensively Kenma takes the fork, digging through the various creams to get to the warm apple pie beneath. He knows it’s good – that’s the whole reason he’s even _here_ – but he takes a bite anyway, just to appease the baker.

He looks up to meet golden eyes. “It’s good,” he says with a small smile.

The baker practically radiates satisfaction at Kenma’s unremarkable words, chest puffing out like a proud bird. He watches as Kenma continues to eat, still feeling awkward but not near as bad as he did during the baker’s downward spiral.

“You just moved here, right?” the baker says when Kenma is about halfway through the dessert, prompting him to still for a moment. As if sensing his unease, the baker speaks again. “I’ve lived in this town my whole life. I can spot a newbie from a mile off.”

Kenma just nods, mumbling out a “mhm” before shoveling another forkful into his mouth.

“I really hope you like it here! I’m glad that you came, my apple pie’s never sold so well!” He laughs to himself, but stops abruptly, his mouth forming a little ‘o’. “Oh! I’m Bokuto, by the way. Bokuto Koutarou.”

Kenma chews slowly, swallowing before looking up at Bokuto. “Kozume Kenma,” he says. “Just Kenma is fine.”

“Oh!” Bokuto says again, eyebrows rising toward his hairline before his face falls back into a smile. “Really glad to properly meet you, Kenma. I kept wanting to introduce myself this week but it was always a little busier. And you usually come in so early! I was actually kinda worried you wouldn’t come in today.”

Kenma tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear as he meets Bokuto’s eyes. “Worried?”

“Well, yeah! I like seeing you,” he admits almost shyly. “You don’t say much, but I think that just makes me listen more, you know?”

Feeling his face begin to flush, Kenma dips his head to let his hair hide his colouring skin. “Oh,” is all he says, putting yet another bite in his mouth, though this time it’s mostly so he won’t be expected to speak.

To his surprise, when he looks down he finds the plate empty. Weirdly, time had seemed to fly with Bokuto, and the whole interaction hadn’t been that unpleasant – if Kenma’s being honest, he’d say it was even...nice. Bokuto is smiling warmly at him, still pleased with himself as Kenma pushes the plate away.

“Better than eating it out of a box, right?” Bokuto grins smugly.

“Yes.” Now finished with his food, Kenma’s unoccupied hands itch for his phone, or his PSP – just _something._ He’d planned to be home long ago, wrapped in a blanket in front of his TV by now. As unexpectedly bearable as this time with Bokuto has been, Kenma can’t help but long to be back in the comfort of his home now. Bokuto seems to sense his agitation, again surprising Kenma with his perceptiveness.

“Like I said, it’s on the house. You can go whenever you like,” he says casually, like he’s not trying to make Kenma feel guilty about wanting to leave.

“Thanks,” Kenma replies, and it’s genuine. He’s thanking Bokuto for the pie, and for not charging him, and, shockingly, for the company. Of course, he doesn’t say all of that, and if Bokuto can’t glean all of that meaning from one word nobody would think any less of him.

But he smiles knowingly, standing at the same time Kenma does and walking him to the bakery’s entrance. “You’ll come back tomorrow, right?” he asks as Kenma opens the door.

Kenma nods, feeling his cheeks heating up again. Still, he holds Bokuto’s gaze this time. “I will,” he promises.

-x-

Bokuto greets him with a bright smile and an enthusiastic “Kenma!” the next day, and every day after that. Kenma even finds that he doesn’t actually mind the volume all that much – Bokuto wouldn’t be Bokuto without it, and maybe Kenma actually quite likes Bokuto.

He certainly likes how Bokuto always smiles at him, and how he always gives him an extra big slice of apple pie, and how whenever Kenma speaks, Bokuto listens so intently that Kenma feels like the most important person in the universe. He still gets his food to go most days, but sometimes, when there’s no one behind him in the queue, he’ll stay and chat for a little while. Or, he’ll listen to Bokuto chat, offering small noises of agreement or interest when appropriate.

And it’s a nice routine to fall into. Kenma feels himself settling into his life here, grounded by the feeling of no longer being so alone. He had been so scared to move, leaving the easy comfort of his hometown and his childhood friends – Kuroo most of all. That was the hardest part, venturing out on his own without his best friend to speak for him and be his link to the outside world. But it was time. Kenma wanted more than what their hometown could offer, and Kuroo was moving away to finally work his dream job, so the decision was a no-brainer in the end.

To be honest, Kenma misses Kuroo a lot, but he doesn’t tell him in their daily texts. He would tell him in their weekly phone calls, but as soon as Kuroo cracks his first inevitable cheesy joke, Kenma loses all desire to do so. Weirdly, he also doesn’t tell Kuroo about Bokuto.

Part of him thinks it’s because he just _knows_ that the two of them would get on _so well,_ and frankly he’s not ready for the chaos that would thus ensue. But there’s also a part of Kenma that likes that Bokuto is _his_ friend – if he can call him a friend after a few weeks of passing small talk and one or two casual chats over a slice of apple pie. All of Kenma’s friends at home are Kuroo’s too, so it feels...special, that Bokuto is just _his._ So he won’t tell Kuroo about him just yet.

Kenma opens the bakery door, the bell chiming its familiar ring as he enters. He can’t help the way his lip quirks as Bokuto pops up from behind the counter, flour in his already pale eyebrows. The baker beams as his eyes fall on Kenma.

“Kenma!” he exclaims. “I’ve been waiting for you!” He stands up straight, wiping powdered hands on his apron. “Sit down, I’ll be over in a sec.”

Kenma stalks to what has become his usual table, taking out his phone to tap away as he waits. It’s been two weeks to the day since Kenma had first sat here across from Bokuto and cautiously eaten his offering of free pie. They’d done the same the Sunday after, though Kenma had insisted on paying that time, the conversation carried by Bokuto as Kenma quietly ate.

Now Bokuto doesn’t even have to scan the room to know where Kenma will be sitting, striding confidently to his table, plate in hand. Kenma doesn’t even try to guess what’s on it; Bokuto seems to have already decided that Kenma will be his guinea pig for new recipes, and Kenma gladly accepts. Whatever Bokuto bakes, it always ends up delicious. Bokuto sets the plate down in front of him.

“So this one has pears in it, too,” he explains, taking his own seat facing Kenma. “Because pears are in season right now, did you know that? Yukie from the fruit stall always gives me the best stuff and that’s what she told me. Do you like pears, Kenma?”

Kenma blinks, brain never working as fast as Bokuto’s mouth. “I like pears,” he says, taking the fork that Bokuto offers and digging in. Bokuto watches, eyes practically sparkling as Kenma chews. Kenma looks up at him through his hair. “It’s good.”

As always, Bokuto practically glows at the barest hint of praise. He bounces a little in his chair. “The fruit is really fresh, right?”

“It is.”

Bokuto grins proudly, watching quietly for a moment, and just when Kenma thinks he isn’t going to speak, he does.

“Can I ask you a question, Kenma?”

Kenma’s eyes flicker up to catch Bokuto’s, curiosity swimming amongst the flecks of gold dust, and he nods.

“What made you move here?” His face is earnest, truly interested in what Kenma’s answer could be.

Kenma pauses for a second, just taking the opportunity to really look at Bokuto. He’s quite lovely, actually, inside and out; when he’s grinning, of course, but now, with his welcoming intensity, too.

“It was time for a change, I guess.”

Bokuto nods, eyebrows drawing together as if he’s thinking really hard. “Do you do that a lot? Move, I mean?”

Kenma shakes his head, his hair swaying in his face with the movement. “This is the first time.”

“Oh.” A smile begins to spread on Bokuto’s face. “Then do you think, maybe, that you’ll stay here? For a while, at least?”

Kenma is quickly discovering the true power of Bokuto’s energy – it is highly infectious. He can’t help but smile back. “I think so.”

It’s far too early to feel this comfortable – usually it can take Kenma _years._ But with Bokuto, it’s been easy. Kenma never would have guessed when he first heard that ear-splitting voice and first saw that blinding smile that seeing this man would end up being the best part of his day, but here he is. He hadn’t been too tied to the town before, but if it means getting to be with Bokuto for longer, Kenma is willing to stick around.

Bokuto’s smile somehow widens, and Kenma feels heat prickle the back of his neck. “Good,” is all Bokuto says. Kenma agrees; it _is_ good.

-x-

Kenma’s phone buzzes against the wooden floor, and he knows who’s calling before he even checks. Pausing his game, he picks it up and answers immediately.

“Hi, Kuro.”

“Kenma!” comes the voice from the other end. “Do me a favour and remind me of your address?”

Kenma squints suspiciously. “I never _gave_ you my address because I didn’t trust you not to send glitterbombs in the mail.”

“I’m not gonna send glitterbombs!” Kuroo practically whines. “I just need your address, so will you tell me already?”

The sound of a train passing on Kuroo’s end catches Kenma’s attention. “Kuro, where are you?”

Kuroo sighs. “Well I was _trying_ to surprise you, but since you wanna be difficult, I’m at the station. I came to see you!” Kenma’s face falls. He can _hear_ Kuroo’s shit-eating grin through the phone. “You’re excited, aren’t you? Tell me you’re excited.”

“You got the time off work?” he asks, still disbelieving. Kuroo is _here?_ After a month of not seeing each other, it sounds almost too good to be true.

“I did! Tell me where you live, and I can tell you all about it when I get there!”

Kenma can’t help but smile. “Fine. I’ll text you.”

He does, and Kuroo arrives less than half an hour later.

“You missed me?” he grins as Kenma opens the door.

Kenma rolls his eyes on instinct, stepping aside to let him through.

He lets Kuroo get a little settled before asking the important question; “How long are you here for?”

“Just the weekend,” Kuroo grins. “Should be enough time for you to show me all the best spots around here though, right?”

There’s only one place that comes to mind upon hearing that, thoughts of a certain buff baker making Kenma’s cheeks flush lightly. He still hasn’t told Kuroo about Bokuto. What started as an odd... _possessiveness_ over Bokuto as a potential friend has become something new. Because Kenma thinks he might like Bokuto as a little more than a friend, and that means that the baker is going to need to earn Kuroo’s approval.

And while Kenma thinks that the two of them would probably get on a little _too_ well, if Kenma tells Kuroo how he feels, Kuroo will end up needling Bokuto and could mess up the whole thing. Sure, Kuroo is clever, and knows how to get what he wants out of people, but Bokuto is so open and genuine that Kenma doesn’t know how he’ll react to Kuroo’s sly prodding.

Still, he can’t hide this from Kuroo forever.

“The best spots. Yeah, okay.”

They spend the rest of the day catching up, falling back into the routine from their school days so naturally and effortlessly. Kenma just hopes that Bokuto isn’t too worried that he hasn’t showed up today, but once he takes Kuroo tomorrow, the reason will become evident – for better or for worse.

-x-

When the bell above the door catches Bokuto’s attention this time, he simply blinks owlishly as his eyes fall on Kenma and Kuroo. He looks between them quickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he gulps, before he seems to remember himself and smiles broadly. If you ask Kenma, though, it looks a little forced.

“Hi, Kenma!” he chirps, though Kenma suspects he’s trying hard to keep his voice light. “I was wondering where you’d gotten to yesterday. Who’s your friend?”

“Are you okay?” Kenma frowns as they approach the counter, ignoring Bokuto’s question in favour of figuring out what has him rattled. He knows by now that Bokuto’s emotional state is actually quite delicate, and he doesn’t like to see it out of balance.

“Mhm!” Bokuto nods, but he doesn’t quite meet Kenma’s eyes. Then he turns to Kuroo, holding a floury hand out over the counter. “I’m Bokuto. Really great to meet a friend of Kenma’s.”

Kuroo quirks an eyebrow, looking down at the offered hand before taking it, grinning that smarmy grin as he shakes it. “Nice to meet you too, Bokuto. I’m Kuroo.”

Bokuto’s face lights up, apparently fake smile replaced with his genuine beam, eyes sparkling once more. “Kuroo! Kenma’s told me about you!”

Eyes narrowing, Kuroo glances sidelong at Kenma. “Has he really. I wonder why he hasn’t told me about you.”

While Kenma knows this is a dig at him, Bokuto seems to take it to heart, face falling once more. He must be on an emotional rollercoaster right now, Kenma thinks, so he figures he ought to try to do some damage control.

“It was none of your business,” he shrugs to Kuroo, then turns back to Bokuto. “Can we get two apple pies? And whatever you want. I want you to sit with us.”

Bokuto’s eyes are wide again, his mouth moving uselessly around silent words. Before he can answer, Kenma smiles softly, tucking his loose hair behind his ear.

“We’ll be over there,” he says, pointing to his usual table. Then he turns to walk away, grabbing Kuroo’s arm and pulling him along.

By the time they settle into their seats, Bokuto has disappeared from behind the counter, presumably to prepare their food. Kenma finally meets Kuroo’s questioning stare, and annoyingly finds that he is also smirking.

 _“Sooo,”_ Kuroo drawls. “How come you didn’t tell me about the big, sexy baker? Or do I even need to ask?”

Kenma scowls, unable to help the way his cheeks redden. “Shut up,” he mumbles, before pointing an accusing finger at Kuroo. “You better be nice to him.”

Kuroo laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’m always nice!” he claims. “And, for the record, I didn’t actually _want_ apple pie.”

“I don’t care,” Kenma says, but he offers Kuroo a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

Kuroo just grins back, but his eye is quickly caught by the plate that is set in front of him. Kenma looks up to see Bokuto, face unreadable as he places down their food. Once his hands are empty, he stands there awkwardly for a second, refusing to make eye contact with either of them. Kuroo raises an eyebrow at Kenma.

“Are you going to sit with us, Bokuto?” Kenma asks cautiously. He’s never seen Bokuto so... _nervous._

“You sure I won’t be intruding or anything?” he asks in return. Kuroo snorts, earning him a glare from Kenma.

“Absolutely not,” Kuroo grins. “If anything, _I’m_ the one who’s intruding here.” Kenma kicks him under the table for this, at which Kuroo grunts.

Bokuto looks between them, blinking in confusion for a second. “Okay, if you’re sure,” he says finally, taking a free seat.

“So Bokuto,” Kuroo starts, setting Kenma on edge already. Bokuto turns to Kuroo, giving him his full attention. “You’re a baker. Maybe we should call you _Bake_ -uto, huh?”

Kenma groans, putting his head in his hands as Kuroo cackles at his own horrible pun. Perhaps bringing Kuroo here was a _really bad idea..._

But then Bokuto throws his head back and laughs loudly, the sound mingling with Kuroo’s hyena howls. _“Bake-uto!”_ he wheezes out, and Kenma is sure that actually this is _worse._ “I can’t believe Kenma said you weren’t funny!”

At this, Kuroo squawks in indignation, while Kenma laments the fact that he has _somehow_ developed a crush on the second biggest loser in Japan, first place obviously belonging to his best friend.

Tension effectively dispelled, Bokuto seems much more comfortable around Kuroo. As suspected, the two of them get on famously, a fact that simultaneously pleases and unnerves Kenma. But it feels good, to have his oldest and most trusted friend react so well to the person who has quickly become the closest thing to home that Kenma has felt since moving to this town.

By the time Kenma is ready to leave, Kuroo and Bokuto have already exchanged numbers, planned Kuroo’s next visit, and apparently created their own language.

“If you don’t ask that guy out, I swear I will,” Kuroo threatens once they’re out of Bokuto’s earshot, making their way back to Kenma’s apartment.

Kenma snorts, shaking his head. “I’ll get there, eventually.”

“Yeah, well make it quick. The guy’s a catch.”

“I know,” Kenma says, smiling.

-x-

Kuroo leaves late the next morning, Kenma waving him off at the station entrance. Of course, it’s sad to see him go, but Kenma doesn’t mind so much anymore – not when he gets to spend his Sunday afternoon in the bakery with Bokuto.

That’s where he goes next, but when he gets to the door he has to stop for a moment. The sign is turned to ‘closed’, none of the lights on inside. He cups his hands against the window, trying to see if there’s any movement in there, but he sees nothing. Tentatively, he raps his fist against the glass. It probably would’ve been wise if _he_ had exchanged numbers with Bokuto yesterday, but seeing as they saw each other every day the thought hadn’t entered his mind at the time. Now, though, Kenma is slightly worried.

When no answer comes, he knocks again, louder this time in case someone is back there and just hadn’t heard. A light flickers on in the back room behind the counter, and he sees a figure move through the dark to open the door. It’s Bokuto, of course, though he’s not in his usual casual clothes with an apron over the top.

In fact, he’s dressed quite nicely, his button down shirt hugging his chest in a way that threatens to draw Kenma’s eyes permanently away from Bokuto’s face. But he looks up into those eyes, the lively gold that always sparkles with a genuine enthusiasm, and Bokuto looks right back, smiling in a way that’s far softer than his usual grin.

“Hey, Kenma,” he says, and the lack of volume has Kenma even more anxious than before.

“Bokuto, is the bakery closed?” he asks, frowning slightly.

Bokuto’s eyebrows raise up his forehead. “What? No!” He looks behind him at the darkened dining area, and seems to understand. “Ah. Well, technically yes, but not to you!” Swinging the door further open, he steps aside to let Kenma in. “Come in, I want to talk to you.”

Kenma does as asked, though there’s a nervous weight in his stomach. Why is Bokuto being so _un-Bokuto-like_ today? Why is the bakery closed? Why is he dressed so nicely? Suddenly a terrifying thought enters Kenma’s head. Does Bokuto have a _date?_ Has Kenma just intruded as Bokuto prepares to meet somebody else?

Kuroo was right; Bokuto is a catch, and Kenma waited so long that someone else beat him to it.

“Bokuto, I can leave if you’re busy,” Kenma offers, frown deepening as Bokuto closes the door behind him.

“Huh?” Bokuto turns towards Kenma, head tilted in question before he shakes it vigorously. “Wait, no, I don’t want you to go! You sit, okay? I’ll be back in a second.”

Before Kenma has a chance to respond, Bokuto is rushing away, leaving him standing in the dark. He waits a moment for his eyes to adjust before walking the familiar path to his table. He doesn’t even pull out his phone when he sits, too antsy to do anything but bounce his leg and wait.

Soon Bokuto emerges once more, rushing over to the table carrying a lit candle in one hand and a small vase containing a single flower in the other. He places them quickly on the table before rushing off again, leaving Kenma impossibly more confused. When he returns, he’s carrying a plate and a fork, which he sets gently in front of Kenma and then moves to take the seat across from him.

Kenma can only, bewildered, as Bokuto sits, back straight and eyes close, taking a deep breath. Then his eyes open, and he speaks.

“Kenma, I know this might seem kind of weird, but I have to say this so please just let me get it out.” Another deep breath, before he continues. “I like you. I liked you the first time you walked in, and I liked you even more after I knew you, and I like you _even_ even more now. It’s okay if you don’t like me. I mean, I’ll be super sad, but I’ll still wanna be your friend! I just had to tell you.” He points to the plate. “It’s just regular apple pie. I know that’s your favourite. I really hope you like it, Kenma.”

Wide-eyed, Kenma just stares at Bokuto for a few long seconds, processing what he’s just heard and trying to figure out what to say in response. He looks down at the food in front of him, the delicious smell rising with the steam. When he looks back up at Bokuto, golden eyes still stare back, intense with anticipation but so patient. Kenma wants to kiss him.

He gulps, feeling slow heat crawl up his neck and knowing he must look extremely flustered. It’s only fitting, considering that he is. But he’s smiling, too, the reality of Bokuto’s words setting in.

“I like you too, Bokuto,” he finally says, Bokuto leaning in to catch the words.

A grin splits his face when he does, blinding even in the dim candlelight, and Kenma feels his own smile grow in response.

“Yeah? So you’ll go on a date with me?” Bokuto asks, leaning even further forward, practically buzzing with excitement.

Kenma cocks his head. “Is this not a date?”

Bokuto shakes his head rapidly again. “No, I mean a proper date, Kenma! This is just...” He trails off, blushing a little as he looks over the distinctly date-like set-up of the table. “Well, I just wanted to make things nice for you. You know, a little romantic.”

Kenma resists the urge to grin, dipping his head a little. “It’s nice,” he says simply.

“I like when you say stuff like that,” Bokuto grins. “I think it means you really like it. Am I right?”

“Maybe.”

Laughing, Bokuto props his elbow on the table, resting his chin in his palm. “Come on, eat your pie before it goes cold.”

Picking up his fork, Kenma quirks an eyebrow. “Are you not having anything?”

“Nah,” Bokuto shrugs. “I don’t really like desserts.”

“A pastry chef. Who doesn’t like desserts.” Kenma fights to keep his face straight, but he ends up snorting, unable to hold his laughter in.

Bokuto just blinks at him for a second before chuckles start to fall from his lips too, both of them laughing like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

Maybe Bokuto’s right, and it isn’t a date, because Kenma feels just as comfortable as he always has, eating and laughing with Bokuto. Or maybe that’s how you know it’s a _good_ date; when everything feels _right,_ no awkwardness or discomfort.

When it comes time for Kenma to leave it’s already getting dark outside, their candle several inches shorter than it had been when they’d sat down. Bokuto walks him to the bakery’s entrance, as usual, to see him off.

“I know I said this wasn’t a date,” Bokuto starts, cheeks a little pink in the faint street light, “but do you think maybe I could still give you a goodnight kiss?”

Kenma feels a blush of his own warm his skin, his lips curving into a soft smile.

“I’d like that.”

That signature grin breaks out across Bokuto’s face, before he’s leaning down. Kenma’s eyes flutter shut as Bokuto pressed the softest, sweetest kiss to his lips. He lingers there for a moment, lips barely brushing against Kenma’s, before he pulls back, cheeks now a deep red.

“When I take you on a real date, then I’ll kiss you properly,” he says, quiet but intent.

Kenma gazes up at him, mouth parted as he catches his breath. Bokuto’s words send electricity across his skin, goosebumps rising in its wake. The baker’s lips had been far sweeter than any pie Kenma had ever tasted, and the promise of more to come has him eager to taste them again.

“I can’t wait.”


End file.
